Bedside Manner
by megyal
Summary: Healer Malfoy is brilliant, but kind of horrible with patients. And Harry.


_[Note: Originally published 2010-03-31 in other places, reposted here. If you've encountered it already, my apologies.]_

**Other Notes:** Written for one of my favourite 'Healers' on LJ, for their birthday: **piratesmile331**.

* * *

"Wait, hang on," Harry said in bemusement as he was yanked inside a small resting area off the main corridor. The door slammed behind him, and Harry could barely see the fair head of the person who had dragged him from where he'd having a quick cuppa in the kitchenette, all the way down here.

"Be silent," Malfoy hissed, as if Harry was babbling non-stop. "Just shut your mouth, Potter." He shoved Harry against the wall and paused, clutching fistfuls of Harry's shirt. He smiled; it wasn't a particularly nice smile... it seemed too nasty and hateful at the edges. However, Harry still felt his cock twitch at the sight of it. "Unless you want me to stick my cock in, shut you up properly."

Harry blinked up at him. He was so turned on, he had no words, but he couldn't decide if this was a bad thing or not. If he _had_ words, he would use them to get Malfoy's long cock deep in his mouth, but he was already choking on the weight of his own sudden wall of want. Such a quandary, that. He could hardly even _breathe_ as Malfoy darted his head down and devoured his mouth, draining his admittedly tiny reserve of resistance.

Harry got into action and fumbled at the front of Malfoy's robes, trying to get all those annoying buttons unfastened, completely forgetting the spell that would undo them all. Malfoy laughed against his mouth, pushed a strong thigh in between Harry's trembling legs, and proceeded to begin a thorough cycle of ravishment that would leave Harry in a boneless heap.

"Healer Malfoy," a voice rasped over the _Sonoro_ system. "Healer Malfoy. Paging Healer Malfoy to Emergency."

Malfoy cursed colourfully and released Harry, stepping back to smooth down his collar and hair before wrenching open the door with fairly bad grace. Harry tried to do the same with his own hair, but failed miserably as usual when Malfoy's now cooled gaze landed on the bird's nest of black curls and displayed signs of amused exasperation.

When they stepped out again into the brightly lit corridor, Malfoy wrinkled his nose and then took a deep breath.

"Well, can't be helped. Let's be off, Trainee Potter," he said and marched off. Meekly, Harry followed in his 'mentor's' wake.

.:.

He had really tried to be an Auror, Harry did, but he found he just couldn't cut it. He had been so tired of fighting, and exhausted to the bone of people's expectations. His Curse instructor had noticed his interest and growing proficiency in healing his fellow Auror trainees and had packed him off to St. Mungo's, much to Ron's public dismay and Harry's very private relief.

Another surprise: Malfoy was a Healer. That one had bowled Harry for six, mostly because he hadn't known at all, not even one striking hint. During those years when he'd been 'taking a break' after the War (read: hiding from the public eye), Malfoy had been busy clawing his way back up from the bog his family had sunk into, getting his Healer training and countering quite a lot of opposition along the way with his patented sneer. He was still massive berk, but he was a fucking _brilliant_ massive berk, and Harry's dismay at being placed under his watch was thankfully tempered by the fact that Malfoy knew his shit, and knew it rather well. On top of it, he had a manner of imparting information that Harry found highly effective.

There were loud screams coming from the Emergency room and Harry tried to keep up with Malfoy's longer stride. Malfoy swept a curtain aside to reveal a few mediwizards struggling with a wild-eyed woman. There was a small limp body cradled in her arms, that of a very young boy, his dark-blond hair flopping from side to side as his mother screeched and fought.

"What's going on," Malfoy asked flatly, yet there was something in the tone that caused the mediwizards to release the woman and step back.

"Boy's not breathing right, Healer," one of the them answered, frowning as he panted. "He was in distress and then he stopped altogether." The woman was hugging her child tightly, weeping; she was such a small thing, and she appeared to be barely out of her teenaged years, but she had managed to fend off three grown men. Malfoy's right eyebrow tilted mockingly at the burliest of the mediwizards, who huffed and folded his beefy arms across his chest.

"How long ago?" Malfoy said crisply, motioning to Harry, who stepped forward.

"Little less'n a minute," the mediwizard answered, unfolding his arms and making for the child again. The woman wailed and hugged the little boy ever more closely.

"Could you kindly stop this foolishness so we can get to work?" Malfoy snapped, obviously nearing the end of his patience. Most of it was sex-deprivation, Harry thought vaguely, poor thing.

"Let me," Harry said hurriedly, knowing that Malfoy was a wand-twitch away from putting the frantic woman in a full body-bind. He got down on one knee, so he wasn't looking down on the poor young woman and hoped that Malfoy wasn't going to let out some smart comment about it being a bit early for nuptials and _what would the Weasels think, Potter_?

"He's not breathing," Harry told her urgently, sparing a worried glance at the blue-tinged skin of the child in her arms. "Please let us help your son."

The woman let out one massive strangled sob... and then her grip loosened, just the smallest bit.

"Quickly, quickly," Malfoy urged as Harry managed to tug the boy away from her. One of the mediwizards summoned a nearby trolley and Harry placed the still little boy on it, waving his wand over the tiny frame. The woman continued to cry as faint monitoring-lines appeared in the air over the boy's head; they were moving, but in a very weak manner. Harry threw a support-spell over him, to help the boy's lungs to move, but it sank into his skin with no effect; as a matter of fact, it seemed to make things worse. That was deeply worrying.

Malfoy's wand joined Harry's in that querying dance, trying to find out what was wrong. Harry looked up at Malfoy's face and his heart sank at the watchful expression, knowing that Malfoy had already found the answer, but was waiting on Harry to follow through. He _hated_ when Malfoy did this, putting him under so much pressure; but it worked really well, since perversely, Harry excelled under pressure. However, this child hadn't been breathing for nearly three minutes now and his brain would soon start starving for oxygen. Think, Potter, _think_. He knew that Malfoy would swoop in to help if it got too close, but this was _impossible_, he couldn't do it-

Then, his gaze dropped and then he breathed in, sharply.

"Malfoy." He cupped the back of the boy's head and turned it to one side very gently. "Look."

Malfoy's smile was beatific. He pointed his wand at the child's neck and intoned, "_Aguamenti_."

When the water hit the strange slits that were open on the boy's neck, the hovering monitoring lines took on a stronger glow and moved more briskly. Harry transfigured a wheelchair into a small ring pool and summoned more water. Malfoy simply hauled up the poor child and dunked him in.

"You're killing him!" The woman cried out and then gasped when the boy thrashed feebly and opened his eyes. "Petey," she said, her voice small and then sat right on the floor.

"Half-merman, what a cock-up," Malfoy said conversationally as Petey wriggled his fingers and toes; his skin was gaining a deeper blue-green tinge and he was blinking rapidly, looking fairly relaxed for someone who had nearly died. "Does one fuck _in_ the water, do you think? To get pregnant for a fish, I mean."

"_Healer Malfoy_," Harry gritted out in scandalized warning, rolling his eyes to where Petey's mother was still sitting on the ground, her hand plastered over her mouth while tears streamed down her cheeks.

"What? It's a scientific question. You," he said, turning towards the mother. "Your boy's half-merman, as you must know. So his heritage kicked in a bit early, as these things do, merpeople can't breathe our air for too long and there's your trouble." He leveled a stern look at her. "Please don't have any more fishy children until you read the manual, yes?"

Harry _really_ hoped that there existed a course on Healer Bedside Manner... for he was finding no proper example in his mentor _at all_.

.:.

"Please," Harry groaned, even as he clutched Malfoy's head to his chest; Malfoy's lips and tongue wreaked havoc on his nipples. "I have another rotation in a few hours, oooh, oh, Malfoy, stop, _yes_."

One of Malfoy's hands, which had been stroking Harry's half-interested cock through his loose trousers, stopped moving. They were in one of the rooms given over to Healers to get some rest. Harry had ducked in there, hoping to kip on one of the surprisingly comfortable cots. Malfoy was like some annoying MTD (Magically Transmitted Disease, and since Harry'd been working at good old SMH, he'd vowed to always spell _safely_... and not share magic too much. He'd seen cases that made his skin crawl); he just wouldn't leave Harry alone.

Not that Harry really minded, but a trainee really needed rest. Sometimes, at the very least.

Malfoy was looking down at him, eyes half-lidded. "Good work today, Potter," he said and Harry felt surprised warmth suffuse his chest. "With lots of hard work and dedication-mostly on my part, but needs must- we'll turn you into a proper Healer yet."

"Oh for-"

"It's a good thing they gave you to me," Malfoy steamrollered and his smile was still that nasty sort that Harry used to hate when they were brawling kids... but now he could see _behind_ it, and he kind of liked what he saw. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"I thought you were planning on sticking your cock somewhere," Harry mused and then laughed when Malfoy dived back to work, pulling off Harry's clothes and throwing a haphazard locking spell on the door. "Your bedside manner is kind of atrocious, by the way," he tried to say, but half that sentence was fairly lost in moans.

Which was fine, because Malfoy was busy showing him a _proper_ bedside manner; being a fairly attentive trainee, Harry set about learning all he could.

_fin_


End file.
